


Sam Doesn't Mind

by dimice



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Batcave, Dean Cooks, Domestic, Fluff, M/M, No Longer Hunting, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-09
Updated: 2014-03-09
Packaged: 2018-01-15 04:31:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1291438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dimice/pseuds/dimice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has his domestic quirks and Sam doesn't mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sam Doesn't Mind

**Author's Note:**

> Because there needs to be more wincest fluff in my life.
> 
> Also, excuse me if there are grammatical errors. It was a quick drabble and I didn't quite read over it.

Sam didn't mind at all.

Dean would walk with a gun in one hand and pan in another, of course he’d stash the gun away and place the pan on the stove. While he waits for the oil to sizzle, he’d pull off his worn leather jacket and let it lay limp atop the sofa. 

His calloused fingers would then press into the meat, forming it in lumps and flattening it out. On the smaller stove Dean would boil water, sometimes past the brim. He’d yelp and exclaim, “Sammy! Help me out here,” as if suddenly they were back on the job.

Sam would just grunt, knowing Dean would have it under control but there were days where he didn't. Like that time he was cutting lemons and the boiling milk overflowed. It sizzled and bubbled over the hinges and burned under the stove’s coils. As usual he called for help. Sam limped over lazily from his fulfilling nap to take it off the heat.

His brother hissed, “That Hurts, dammit!” Dean had burned his thumb, a puffy welt forming around the area, “The fucking lemon, shit it burns!”

Sam gleefully mocked his brother for being baby while watching Dean suckle the citrus string from his finger.

There was something about him gently cradling his thumb between the cushion of his lips that made Sam’s laughter stop.  He tugged away Deans injured finger from his mouth, ignoring all curses that came at him.

 _Dean, Dean, Dean_ “Dean”

“What the fuck man! You just manhandled me!”

Sam leaned in until their foreheads touched and carefully watched the anger in Dean’s eyes turn to confusion.

He could feel it. Dean’s breath and the slight pulse of his heart. He could smell it. The ever present smell of beer and fresh cut wood. His hands came to rest on Dean’s lower back, as if comforting him.

“Hey, it’s just a fucking cut. Not like I blew off a leg or something.”

Sam whined under Dean’s ear, nuzzling the soft hairs by his neck.

It wasn't about the cut and Dean seemed to know because his fingers pressed into Sam’s locks, smoothing the tangles and pulling him closer till their noses touched, “Not even worried about my cut, bitch.”

Sam murmured a no and pressed his lips tight against Dean. Dean pressed back before abruptly pulling away and attending to his burnt patties. Knowing his love for cooking, Sam half expected Dean punch him square in the jaw.

Instead, he asked, “Hey, why don’t we eat out later?” and pulled his Sammy back on his mouth.


End file.
